Paintings- Destiel
by sexierthanthetardis
Summary: Castiel takes up painting when he can no longer get drugs.


Dean had been so busy going out on raids and checking to make sure the camp wasn't out of any necessary supplies that he hadn't had much time to talk to Castiel lately. Actually, when he thought about it, he hadn't even seen his angel in about three weeks.

Dean began asking everyone where Cas was, but no one seemed to have seen him lately. Eventually, running out of options, Dean decided to ask Jeremy if he knew where Cas was. Dean hated talking to Jeremy since he was the one who got his angel hooked on drugs in the first place, but he didn't really know who else to ask.

"Hey Jeremy," Dean said, walking into the tent.

"Ever heard of knocking, dude?" Jeremy responded, throwing something he had been holding into a corner.

Dean ignored that, "Do you know where Cas is? No one has seen him lately."

Jeremy flashed his creepy smile, "Yeah. I know where he is."

"So where is he?" Dean asked when it was clear that Jeremy wasn't going to continue.

"Well, he told me not to tell anyone…but if you _really_ want to know-"

"I'm not sleeping with you," Dean interjected, knowing Jeremy's usual price for information. And drugs. And pretty much everything.

"Then I guess you're not finding the angel."

Jeremy turned around smugly, but he didn't get a chance to walk away before dean grabbed his hair and flung him against the wall. Dean pulled out a knife and shoved it under his chin, pressing hard enough to draw blood, but not cause any real damage (yet).

"Let's try this again. Where is Cas?"

"He's been staying in that old barn in the woods near the river. Now get off."

Dean pulled the blade away and released the other man's hair before walking out of the tent, grinning slightly. Jeremy tried to talk big, but he always broke when someone threatened his life. It was a 4 hour walk through the woods to get to the barn. They had found it sometime last year and taken all the usable supplies, but Dean still remembered how to get to it.

When he got there he noticed that the door was locked tightly. He knocked on it, but got no response. He tried calling for Castiel, but there was still no reply. Worried now, Dean brought his foot up and kicked the door in. the dry-rotted wood splintered and caved easily under his foot.

"That wasn't necessary," Castiel called from one of the stalls in the back of the Barn.

Dean followed his voice and walked to find his angel in a large stall standing in front of a large canvas on a painting easel.

"I've been looking for you everywhere man. No one has seen you in days; what are you doing out here?"

Castiel gestured to the canvas behind him. "I've been painting."

"Okay…Why?" Dean asked, a little confused on why the angel would take up a hobby in the middle of the apocalypse.

"Jeremy cut me off, so I needed something distracting."

Dean suddenly noticed that his friend actually looked totally sober for the first time in…well, the first time in a long time.

"Why did he cut you off?" Dean asked.

"I didn't want to sleep with the bastard anymore," Cas said, turning back to his canvas and continuing his painting, "so he cut me off. Then I tried to kill him, and he took back the pills he had given me earlier. It was either take up painting or try to kill myself again."

Dean remembered the last time Cas had tried to kill himself. They had wrestled the gun from his hands just in time, but he still looked depressed for the next month or so. Then Jeremy got to him nd he had been drowning himself in drugs and sex even since.

"Are you any good?" Dean asked.

"Why don't you have a look?" Castiel said, taking his friends hand and pulling him to a ladder that led to the upper level of the barn.

They climbed up and Dean was immediately impressed at the artwork before him. The first painting he saw had an angel chained down to a table, wings being ripped out of its back by black hooded figures. Another had an angel laying naked in a field, its wings burning away as it cried. Everywhere he looked he saw beautiful paintings of fallen angels.

"Cas, these are amazing," Dean said as he walked through all the beautiful paintings.

"Thanks," Cas replied with a small smile on his face.

Dean continued to walk through the paintings when he found a section that didn't have fallen angels. Instead, he saw paintings of two men, one with short black hair and wing tattoos on his back and another with short dirty blond hair and unbelievably green eyes. In some paintings, they were holding each other in their arms, lips almost touching but not quite. In others they were standing next to each other, fighting off croats and monsters like a team.

"Hey, Cas," Dean said, pointing to one of the paintings, "Is this us?"

"Maybe," Cas said, slightly self-conscious.

"If it is, you did this one wrong," Dean said, pointing to one of him and Cas nearly kissing.

"What do you mean?" Cas asked, walking over.

"Well," Dean said, moving closer to his friend, "You made us the same height."

He spun his friend around and pulled him close so their lips were almost touching.

"And I'm about two inches taller than you."

Cas smiled as Dean pressed a soft kiss onto his angel's lips.


End file.
